I have a burning desire to be included and to experience as much as I can before I pop the perch.
I am disabled, I use wheels to get around but that should not in this day and age of anti-discrimination and inclusion stop me from doing everything my heart, energy and pocket desire.
And so, it was with this motivation behind me that I applied to be a volunteer at the Hay Days Festival in Hobart. This festival brings together some of the most cutting-edge artists locally, nationally and internationally. I wanted to go! I am a big fan of Genesis Owusu after seeing him perform at Party in the Paddock 2023.
Yeah, an old chick like me loves Party in the Paddock; the most memorable was seeing Lilly Allen and singing her song ‘F##k You’, with about 4000 other people a few years back. I maybe disabled but I’m not dead and I love to get amongst it. Maybe a result of being an older mum with a younger adult child or just being hip, who knows.
Financially the cost of a ticket to the two-day festival was not going to break the bank but it did mean that I was going to have to cut some of my other activities to attend. I could have paid but there might have been other things I would have to miss out on to compensate.
With this in mind when my daughter said she was applying for paid work in the bar at Hay Days I thought, ‘well why not see if I can volunteer?’ I have skills, heck I have a degree and a couple of grad diplomas, I’m smart, I could be useful and then get a bonus ticket for free. Well not free, but free for doing work, I work for the ticket, a 6-hour shift in-fact.
I applied. I made it clear on my application that I was a wheelchair-user and disabled. I made it clear out of all the jobs they were offering which would be suitable for me to do in my chair. I made full disclosure, let the dice roll on my application and hit send.
A few weeks later I received a reply. I was in! They wanted me. I say this in a surprised way because let’s be honest: discrimination is real, it still happens to people with disabilities. And to be brutally honest people are scared to give people with disabilities ago.
Even though I worked in education for 33 years they didn’t know me. They didn’t know what I could do and there is still so much unconscious bias and fear in our world against people with disabilities.
So, I rocked up on the first day. I scoped out my workplace for the next day and then I settled in for a day and evening of absolute sheer bliss. I bought my potato from a food vendor who knew some sign language. Oh that’s another thing: when things are really loud I can’t make my voice project for people to hear me so I sign. It’s not a barrier, just something to be accommodated.
I checked out the loos. Yes that’s also an issue. 4000 people can use all the toilets at the festival, but I can use only one namely the accessible toilet. And because the accessible toilet is so accessible it seems like 4000 able-bodied people use it too, which makes cleanliness a thing.
Have a thought for a person with a disability who has to touch everything in the loo to get on the pot so to speak. You ‘ableds’ (abled bodied people) can just squat over the seat, make a splash, leave a cup or two in the loo for extra obstacles, leave some toilet paper strewn around, touch very little and leave.
Yeah, not us folks with chairs and wonky legs and dodgy bits, we have to touch all your grot. I only went once a day and held on for as long as I could, minimising the need by drinking less so I didn’t have to go more than once. I went on day two and the nice ambo folks next to it had to fish a cup out of the toilet itself and help me negotiate it. Thanks legends, you folks go above and beyond as vollies.
You know what is super great. As a person in a chair, we sit about navel height to everyone else. So, imagine at a concert trying to see an act if all we can see is the person in front’s bum. Hemmed in by a sea of bums is not my idea of a good time, but hey each to their own.
But no bum viewing for me or other persons in wheelchairs at Party in the Paddock or Hay Days. We get a viewing platform that takes us above the sea of bums to a clear view of the stage. It also mitigates against the risk of some drunk dude or dudette landing on our laps or accidentally crashing into us whilst vigorously dancing to the bands. This is so great. That’s accommodation and I for one really appreciate this.
I bopped and bopped to Genesis and The Jungle Giants and PNUA, squawking along to, ‘Stay Blessed’, ‘Rakata’ and ‘Cold Heart’. It was bliss. Best night ever! (Well one of them).
The next day I rocked up (rolled up) to my shift at 11.30 am. Signed in and collected my vollie t-shirt, so pumped that I had a uniform. I forgot to mention that when you get me as a vollie, it’s a two for one deal: I come with my very own support entourag, my support worker Michelle. So Michelle and I rolled over, well she walked, to our workstation.
Our duties for the next 6 hours were to check tickets using a scanner (much like my old Job checking in books as a librarian) and then strapping a wrist band on to the owner of the ticket. In the next 6 hours I touched so many hairy, skinny, largish wrists that I could do a thesis on the human genome variation and how it affects wrist diversity. Maybe in my next life, I’m really not that invested now.
Before starting the shift, we were briefed on what to do, what to expect and then sent forth to work. I loved it. Bopping between customers, bopping with customers and strapping on wrist bands. Even though I could not really have huge conversations with people when the music started. I could sign/gesture enough to make myself known.
The only really thing that hurt my fragile ego was when I said, “I bet I’m your first disabled volunteer” it was a “yes” reply. Why I wondered. The next was being told when I was being considered as a volunteer those higher up talked to my team leader and sort of offered me as an offering and she consented with, “yeah I’ll take her” like I was a risk. Man, I have mad skills and you all should be looking at the person not the disability.
Apart from that small infraction of ableism, the whole experience was just awesome, and I would do it again. Just fix the toilet situation!
What I’m also advocating for is that, hey, if you have a disability and think you can do something with expertise and skill, go for it. If you are skilled and able then it’s not a charitable offering to allow you to work, its equity.
My time as a volunteer at Hay Days was the best most excellent experience and yours could be too.
